


This Wasn't the Plan

by Marks



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-01
Updated: 2007-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your top button is open," Tezuka said when Oishi walked into the clubhouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Wasn't the Plan

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't set out to prove that angsty blowjobs are the only way to go, I promise, but my original idea didn't pan out. This is contribution to the Oishi/Tezuka mini-smutfest anyway. Does it count as a fest when it's doubles for three?

"Your top button is open," Tezuka said when Oishi walked into the clubhouse.

Oishi looked down. "Ah. Yes. It-- I didn't notice--"

Tezuka took a step forward and fastened it before Oishi had a chance to do it himself. "How did Kikumaru take it?"

"How did you--" Oishi sighed. He should have known Tezuka would have figured it out; Tezuka was always a moment ahead of Oishi with everything. Like the button. Like the match. Like knowing about Eiji. "He's not happy. He called me an idiot."

"You are," Tezuka said evenly. His hands were still fisted in Oishi's shirt, the second time that day someone had done that.

Oishi let his breath out in a whoosh, but he didn't knock away Tezuka's hands. He knew he was an idiot, but he couldn't play at nationals with his wrist the way it was. Did everyone think he didn't want to play? They had all worked so hard, but he was worried about his injury bringing everyone else down. Oishi worried about everything.

"We don't have another doubles team." Tezuka's face was close and intense. Then he kissed Oishi, backing him up against the wall.

Oishi's eyes were wide open. Tezuka's eyes were closed, and even through his glasses, Oishi could see that Tezuka's face was different than he'd remembered. Was it Kyuushuu or winning against Oishi? Was it _relief_ from winning against Oishi? This hadn't been the way things were supposed to go when they'd promised each other. Oishi wished he wasn't so weak. He didn't want everything to end yet.

Oishi made a frustrated noise and grabbed the front of Tezuka's shirt to pull him closer, pouring all his feelings into their kiss. Tezuka gasped, out of surprise maybe, but Oishi could hardly ever tell what Tezuka was feeling, not like Eiji who put everything out there. Not like Oishi who wore his tennis on his sleeve. He stuck his tongue into Tezuka's mouth, wriggling it back and forth. It reminded him of the angelfish Oishi kept in his room. He didn't think he was doing it right.

Tezuka broke away, panting a little. "Oishi," he breathed.

Maybe Oishi had been doing something right.

"Oishi," Tezuka said again and let Oishi's shirt go. He took off his glasses and put them in his front pocket for safekeeping. Then he dropped to his knees.

"Tezuka, what are you doing?" Oishi's voice squeaked and he blinked a bunch of times, too many times, all in a row.

"We were supposed to go to nationals together," Tezuka said, his fingers already pulling at Oishi's button and zipper. He was staring straight up at Oishi, focused, even though Oishi had once tried on Tezuka's glasses and knew how bad Tezuka's eyes were.

Oishi nodded, whether in permission or in reply he didn't know, back against the wall as Tezuka pulled his pants down over his hips. He swallowed hard as Tezuka's gaze dropped lower, unable to look away as Tezuka slid his mouth over Oishi's dick.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was surreal, and not happening, and unlike anything Oishi had experienced before or expected to ever happen to him again. He wasn't supposed to want this. But he couldn't help it.

Oishi wanted to dig his hands into Tezuka's hair and cry out, but instead he tried not to move around too much and shoved a fist into his mouth to stop himself from making any unnecessary noise when he came. Tezuka fixed Oishi's pants for him, just like he'd fixed his shirt, and stood, thumbing the corner of his mouth. Oishi grabbed Tezuka's shirt again, tugged him in closer. He had to return the favor, had to make sure Tezuka _knew_.

"Welcome back," Oishi said, mouth close to Tezuka's again. He pressed his hand against the front of Tezuka's pants.

"No," Tezuka said, his hand on top of Oishi's hand. "Your wrist."


End file.
